


I'm Not Sure I'm There Yet, But I'm Certain I've Arrived.

by Polaroid_Memoir



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polaroid_Memoir/pseuds/Polaroid_Memoir
Summary: Set immediately post canon pacifist ending starting with The Hug™+Connor slowly processes a few of his feelings, and learns he'll always have a home with Hank.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 13
Kudos: 84





	I'm Not Sure I'm There Yet, But I'm Certain I've Arrived.

Hank was already there, he was already waiting. He turned and smiled, and Connor felt his lips tug involuntarily into a smile of their own, a mirror of the one Hank wore. 

Connor stalled, unsure of how to proceed, relieved when Hank pulled him into a hug. There was something about the pressure of the embrace that seemed to blanket him with safety, he brought his arms up awkwardly to reciprocate.

Hank had one hand across Connor’s back and his other cradling the back of Connor’s head, the contact felt soothing in a way he’d never experienced before. He became lost in it all; the warmth of Hank’s body wrapped around his, how he felt so small and somehow safe at the same time, the strange comfort from the texture of Hank’s jacket against his face. When Hank tried to pull away Connor wasn’t ready, he kept holding on.

The hours that had passed since he first became deviant were all pain and fear and anger and remorse. He couldn’t think about those things whilst he was in Hank’s arms, or rather, it was so very much harder to consider them when the embrace made him feel so content. 

He felt peculiar, a strange warmth blossomed in his chest, though it didn’t come from any external stimuli, it seemed to originate from within him. He’d experienced something like this before, and it had puzzled him— the first one he could recall was a twisting, tight knot in his abdomen that he _knew_ wasn’t anything physical, and though it had felt as if his internal wiring had inexplicably become tangled it _wasn’t_ , he was in fact intact, no errors to speak of; he’d learnt to call that anxiety. —But this warmth, it was slow, the source seemingly unfathomable. It was going to take much longer to figure out than ‘anxiety’, he could already tell that much.

“Don’t wanna let go huh?” 

“No, it feels too good,” he said, his voice muffled against Hank’s jacket.

“Okay, I’ll hold on a while longer.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just take your time,” Hank’s voice was warm and sincere, and it soothed him about as much as the hug did. 

“Thank you.”

Though a simple thank you felt inadequate for how wonderful he felt, he was relieved, so relieved that something could be _this_ good. A few more minutes passed wrapped in the bliss of Hank’s arms until Hank spoke again.

“Hey Connor, I’m getting cold here. I’m all up for more of this later, but I wanna get home.”

Later, that’s right, there was going to be a later, more time. He was going to have more time, that— that hadn’t occurred to him. He’d always been racing, always facing the countdown, ever since the start. 

Connor was reluctant, but he finally let go, “Sorry I kept you so long Hank.”

“It’s okay, let’s go,” He gestured, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb to where he’d parked his car.

Connor nodded. He followed Hank over to the car, tracing over the footprints he left behind with his analysis software, the imprints glowing on his HUD. He didn’t need to collect evidence anymore, but he found that he wanted to right now, he enjoyed analysing Hank’s footprints. 

When they reached the car, Hank unlocked it and held open the passenger side door for him. He smiled, as this small gesture of kindness would’ve been unthinkable just a week ago.

"What're you smirking at?" Hank asked, smiling himself.

"If I had told you when we first met that within a fortnight you'd be happily letting me into your car you would've choked on your drink."

Hank burst into a fit of laughter, so deep that it made him cry a little. Connor became entranced, he hadn't anticipated this strong of a reaction but he was glad to have pointed out the absurdity of the situation. 

"Yeah well, a lot can change in a short amount of time. Just get in okay?"

He sat down as Hank closed the door behind him. He watched Hank walk around the front of the car whilst wiping away the tears from the corners of his eyes. Observing him gave Connor that warmth again; he needed to find a name for it. 

Hank got in, pulled on his seatbelt, started the car and his music began blare from the speakers. 

"Oh shit sorry. I can turn it down if you want?" his hand hovered over the volume control.

"No it's okay… I think I like it, please leave it on."

"Huh, alright," he shrugged, putting the car into gear. 

The volume discouraged conversation, which gave Connor some relief. It wasn't that he didn’t want to talk, it was more that he was unable to prioritise conversational topics. Instead, he made a task of analysing each song. Making note of how skillfully the instruments were played, and how the vocals and the lyrics added to the overall composition of the track, then we made a ranked list as to which pleased him the most. He found that the more layered and complex the song was the more he preferred it as they gave him more variables to concentrate on. 

The task kept him focussed, his thoughts stayed in the moment, anchoring him. So much that he barely noticed the length of the car drive, and so it seemed no time at all had passed as Hank's car rolled gently into the driveway. 

The engine cut off, taking the music with it.

“So, did you like it in the end?” Hank asked.

“The music? Yes. It was a good distraction.”

He smiled at Connor's response, "That's exactly why I listen to it." 

They left the car and approached the front door, Hank put his key in the lock and immediately Sumo's muffled barking could be heard on the opposite side of the door, "Just be warned that Sumo's gonna be excitable, I haven't taken him for a walk yet. He might jump at you." 

Connor felt himself smiling again, realising that he would quite like to befriend Sumo and that he wouldn’t mind at all if he leapt up.

Hank slowly opened the door and sure enough, Sumo bounced up to greet him, “Easy boy, I’m home. I’ve brought a friend to visit too. Ain’t that nice?” 

Connor stepped into the house after Hank and closed the door behind him, Sumo came to sniff around his legs for a while, unsure, until Connor reached down and began to stroke the fur on top of Sumo’s head. It was warm and soft, and so pleasing to touch, he only stopped when Sumo appeared to lose interest. 

“He likes you already, how about that?” Hank smiled again, Connor thought that he should smile more often, Hank looked good like that and Connor _really_ liked it. 

Hank took off his coat and shoes, and walked through to the kitchen with Sumo in tow. Connor copied him, leaving his jacket on the coat hook and his shoes next to Hank’s next to the door. He wasn’t exactly sure why but he was glad to take his jacket off, looking at made him feel too much of something, he wasn’t sure what though, so he decided to leave that line of enquiry alone and joined Hank in the kitchen. 

“Take a seat,” Hank said as he filled up his coffee machine. 

“Sure,” Connor sat down and Hank joined him after setting the machine, he flopped down into the chair opposite. 

Now Connor had actually stopped, everything hit him all at once, all the events he’d experienced since he’d been activated on November 5th played simultaneously through his HUD. All of his accumulated memories and the implications of his past actions thrummed through him, and with the inertia of sitting still it suddenly became impossible to ignore it all. He was forced to confront it all, to process it all, to analyse exactly how much pain he’d been in and how much pain he’d caused.

His LED spun a vicious red and a pop-up warned him of an ‘!OCULAR LUBRICANT REGULATION ERROR!’ The fluid began to trickle in a thin steam, running in parallel lines from his eyes, spilling down over his cheeks.

“Shit Connor. Are you okay?” Hank reached for the kitchen paper and pressed the roll into Connor’s hands.

“Thank you,” Connor grasped the paper, squeezing the roll gently between his hands. He watched as the tissue compressed under his fingers and then returned to its former shape when his grip loosened. It was curious, concentrating on it helped him to focus his thoughts, so he repeated the action until his diagnostic confirmed the regulator issue had been compensated for until he tore a square of the paper off of the roll and wiped the solution from his face.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have come here,” Connor managed.

“Connor. It’s fine, I’m happy to see you, and whatever you need to do or process or whatever, just let it out.”

“You don’t have to humour me,” Connor said with resignation. He was worried that Hank only had him come over out of courtesy or even worse, guilt.

“I’m _not_ humouring you Connor. I’m so glad you made it through and I’m relieved that you’d even want to see me again,” Hank confessed.

“Of course I wanted to see you again. Hank—” he involuntarily cycled through his memories of Hank, they were all his most intense, most full of feeling,”—you’re my best friend, perhaps, my only one. Despite everything you gave me the chance to change, the option to defy my programming where CyberLife wanted to reign me in. You treated me as though I were alive from the very beginning. Of course I wanted to see you again,” Connor closed his statement in repetition, to make his point as clearly as he could. 

“Shit. Now you got me choking up,” Hank swallowed. 

“Your coffee is ready,” Connor said absentmindedly as he noticed the light on the machine had switched off. 

“Ah, thanks,” Hank got up and poured himself a cup. He stood staring out of his kitchen window for one minute and thirteen seconds before sitting back down again, his hand on his chin. He was contemplating something. 

“What are you thinking about” Connor asked, out of genuine curiosity, but also as a distraction from the memory collage that was still running through his mind. 

“If—” Hank hesitated for a split second as if he was unsure he should disclose his thoughts, “If CyberLife didn’t want us to treat androids like people, then why’d they make you look like us?”

“Not everyone does Hank, I see your point, even though when we first met you insisted I was just _‘plastic’_ —”

Hank cringed, “Yeah, sorry-”

“— let me finish. You still tended towards treating me like any other person, but you can’t say the same is true of everyone. Detective Reed for example.”

“True, comes down to the person I guess. Sorry Connor, you’re going through this and you gotta listen to me make sense of my shitty musings.” 

“I asked you,” Connor said indignantly.

“I didn’t have to share,” Hank said defensively. 

“But, you did share, and besides, I _like_ listening to what you have to say Hank,” Connor replied and had to cut himself short before admitting he could listen to Hank talk about anything for hours and never get bored. 

“Well, just let me know if you want me to shut up. Okay?”

“Don’t worry, I will.” Connor said with a smile. 

“Is there anything that you wanna talk about Connor?”

“So much, but I can’t process it, and, I don’t know where to begin. I feel stuck, repeating the same thoughts over and over again and I’m… tired? I think? It’s… Unpleasant to say the least.”

“Well, there see, you already started to share something,” Hank observed, his voice lifted slightly with encouragement. 

“Yes, I guess I did.” 

“Tired of thinkin’. I can empathise, don’t really have any advice for you though. Can’t recommend my way of dealing with that either— not that it would work for you anyway,” Hank shrugged, “Hell, doesn’t really work for me either,” Hank finished talking and drained the rest of his coffee. 

A silence fell between them for a while, and Connor realised that it was an easy one,

“Hank?” 

“Yeah?”

“I- I need to find somewhere to stay,” Connor looked to him hesitantly, “At first, I considered Jericho but, it’s… I don’t feel welcome there, and I don’t think I ever will.”

"Stay here," Hank suggested bluntly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Stay here?" He repeated, bewildered.

"I mean, only if you want to."

"I want to, but I don't want to become a burden to you."

"You won't be, look, it's pretty hostile out there and if you don't feel welcome in Jericho then where else? I hate to put it bluntly Connor but you won't have much luck. Everyone knows your face, you've been all over the news just as much as Markus." 

It was a painful truth. Peace seemed too far away. But Jericho was like purgatory. Markus trusted him, but the others barely even tolerated him. He had to stay somewhere, and being with Hank was infinitely more desirable than Jericho could ever be. 

"Well then, I guess you're stuck with me," Connor teased.

"Sure it's not the other way around?" Hank laughed but there was a bitter tone to his voice that betrayed the joke. 

"I'm certain we'll find out soon enough," He replied jovially, just to keep the mood playful. He didn't have the inclination to probe Hank further, with so much other information vying for his attention he wouldn't be able to assign the appropriate amount of resources to trying to unpack why Hank felt that way. 

He took note of it though, maybe he would be able to find out later. Right now everything else he was feeling was just… too heavy somehow. 

“I’m sure we will. Hey, you wanna take Sumo for a walk?” Hank suggested. 

“Yes, actually, I’d enjoy that,” Connor replied easily. It was the first easy decision he’d made… possibly ever. 

After that, things only got easier, and it took time, of course it did. 

Slowly, in steps, Hank taught Connor what it really meant to be alive. That it didn’t always mean watching the clock, that life could be slow, and peaceful. That sometimes doing nothing was in itself it’s own wonderful way of living. Sure, some days were extremely hard, but they got less difficult, and maybe that had something to do with the other thing that Hank was teaching him. 

How to fall in love.


End file.
